


closer

by seoafin



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, I THINK NOT!, Mutual Pining, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Robot/Human Relationships, Sleep Deprivation, gavin's not rlly redeemable in this one, love triangle?, teen rating just for hank's potty mouth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seoafin/pseuds/seoafin
Summary: maybe sleep deprivation isn't all that bad





	closer

**Author's Note:**

> i actually went without sleep for 27 hours.  
> i dont recommend it.

"Detective, your physical state is indicative of extreme exhaustion. Is everything alright?"

You bolt upright, snatched out of the hazy clutches of sleep by Connor's voice. The android in front of you looks down at you, and you're barely coherent enough to recognize the worried quality of his tone. Wait, worried? Your judgement must be more clouded than you thought, because somehow the thought of Connor being worried about you is too difficult to comprehend in your inebriated state of mind.

"Huh?" is the only thing you can manage to force out.

There's a serious set to his shoulders as he says, "I did a quick scan and it revealed that you have not slept in twenty-seven hours. The advised amount of hours to go without sleep is sixteen. You are eleven hours above the limit."

To your curiosity, you watch as he averts your gaze. "Thanks for worrying." You reply with a smile. And you mean it. The thought of Connor worrying about you is...nice. It's warm, pleasant feeling that spreads through your body and makes you feel just a little bit lighter, and a little less tired. "I'll go home right after this." You gesture to the spread out paperwork scattered haphazardly around your desk, and expect him to leave, but instead he fixes you with a pointed stare.

"That's what you said approximately four hours and seventeen minutes ago."

A sheepish smile. "Crime never sleeps?"

"If you don't mind me asking detective--when was the last time you slept for a full eight hours?"

You can't recall. All you do remember is cup after cup of coffee, reviewing the holo-files until your eyes bled, and pounding pain in your temple that never really went away. When _was_  the last time you went to sleep for longer than thirty minutes? In an actual bed? Your body screams for sleep, but the homicide case lying on your desk says otherwise, and all you can do is wait, until your partner gets here at least.

Speaking of partner, where the fuck is that asshole?

Your silence says it all, and a satisfied smile makes its way on Connor's lips at winning your little tug-of-war game. So competitive. He's always been competitive, a small voice within you says, his deviancy only polished it, made it more blatant. You mentally scoff. "Can I at least finish this?" Pointing at the screen, you add in a small, "please?"

Connor hesitates, and a small pang of guilt fills you at the conflicted expression that crosses his face. "Okay," he starts slowly. " _One more._ Failure to comply will result in me, as Hank would say, dragging your god damn ass home and holding a pillow over your fucking face until you turn off."

One, you don't think you've ever heard such crude words leave Connor's mouth before, and it's... _hot_. The realization has you reeling and feeling hot in places you'd rather not name.

Two, it's such a scarily accurate impression of your favorite foulmouthed lieutenant that you can imagine him barking the words out in your head with surprising clarity.

Your mouth is still open from shock as a bubble of laughter leaves your throat. "Speaking from experience?"

He winces. "Lieute-- _Hank,_ does not react well to being woken up early in the morning."

You snort.

"And perhaps that was not the best analogy to utilize in this situation. After all, unlike me, you do not 'turn off', and if I did hold a pillow over your face, you'd most likely die from asphyxiation."

"How nice." you reply dryly. At this point you're so tired that death by choking sounds pretty good, but if anything, you're stubborn, and leaving things half assed has never been you. 

"Connor," a gruff voice yells out into the station. If it were anyone else, the whole station would've gone quiet, waiting for a confrontation, but Hank's fits of cursing and yelling are so common it becomes relegated to nothing more than mere background noise. "where the fuck are you?"

"Over here Lieutenant," Connor chimes, and you smile as Hank enters your view.

Hank takes one look at you and mutters, "should've known."

You can't possibly understand the implications of that sentence so you settle on watching the way Connor slides a coin out of his pocket and fiddles with it.

Hank does a double take. Squints. Then frowns. "Jesus kid, you look like shit."

Wow. If _Hank_ , through his perpetually plastered state of mind thinks you look like shit, then you must really look bad.

"Ouch."

"Call it like I see it." He replies with typical Hank coarseness.

You roll you eyes, "Whatever. Go get drunk or something, y'know, be useful?"

Hank snorts. "Already on it, c'mon Connor."

He leaves and Connor turns to follow in suit when he pauses. He turns to you. "I expect to see your desk empty in the next five minutes or so detective."

You give him a mock salute. "Aye-aye, captain." A smile stretches your face and Connor's LED momentarily swings red, once, before sliding back to a steady blue. If you weren't mentally incapacitated from staying awake for...who knows how long, you'd say that he looked almost...bashful.

The word adorable comes to mind and you can almost imagine a tail wagging enthusiastically. The sudden urge to kiss him on the cheek just to see how he'd react is so strong that it steals your breath. You've decided at this point that being awake for this long must have the same effects as being drunk. You sure as hell feel less inhibited, plus the fact that you're feeling things little too strongly. What are you supposed to do with all of these pent up emotions you've repressed? 

This is more than a 2a.m. vodka drunk realization that feels like you've just slammed face-first into a brick wall, it's a revelation that's been simmering on the down-low within you for some time. The fact that you wouldn't mind watching the way Connor's eyebrows furrow, and the way he tilts his head when he catches a joke he doesn't quite understand, forever. Or that sometime's he just so _earnest,_ a breath of fresh air that makes you feel good, _happy_. The way he laughs just a second too late because he had to take a moment to run the joke through the state of the art search engine in his head, and--

the way he talks to you, _worries_ about you. Maybe you're just projecting, maybe you're just lonely. But Connor has become somewhat of a permanent fixture in your life. One you can't imagine life without.

You really need some sleep. This sentimental bullshit is really starting to get to you.

He walks away, and you catch yourself staring. You already know that this can't possibly be the way to go. Feelings? For an android? You?

God you're fucked. 

 

 

"Connor? The fuck you lookin' at when we got a case to solve?"

Before he can respond or look away, Hank follows Connor's trail of sight only to see you, splayed out against your desk, sleeping soundly. The papers are forgotten in a fit of blissful sleep.

Connor clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant--" 

"You know they're that fuck's partner right?"

Connor shifts in his seat and adjusts his tie. "If you are referring to detective Reed, then yes, I am aware they are detective's Reed's partner."

Silence. "You know what Connor? I think I'm good here."

He tilts his head. "Lieutentant?"

Hank leans back in his seat. "I've slept on these tables before. Fuckin' uncomfortable, ya get me?"

The implication in his comment doesn't go unnoticed. 

_Ah._

"I'm sure you know where they live, like you _aren't_ some stalker, right?"

"Yes. The addresses of all of the officers working in this precinct are stored on the police database which I can access-"

"Just go already, asshole." Connor detects a hint of amusement in his voice and he grins.

The last thing he hears is a muttered, "Jesus, you sure know how to pick 'em."

 

**Author's Note:**

> the song title doesn't rlly mean anything -- i was listening to closer by lemaitre when i wrote this and it's a good song if u like electropop
> 
> hmu @ seoafin.tumblr.com


End file.
